


and another called Division

by LiberaMeLuminis



Series: It has to do with the logistics [2]
Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: F/F, Post-Apocalypse, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberaMeLuminis/pseuds/LiberaMeLuminis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Better hurry up, Wonder Girl, or I'll leave you for the birds."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and another called Division

**Author's Note:**

> A companion piece to Fallacy of Composition, because I liked the setting of that drabble so much that I couldn't not do anything else with it, and the Eva girls haven't been getting enough love in my fics.  
> I wrote this on my phone. It's probably wonky.

"Better hurry up, Wonder Girl, or I'll leave you for the birds."

Asuka's yellow sundress is a blip on a radar of red and white - it glows, incessant in Rei's eye, with the same sense of surly survival often found in wildflowers. Goldenrod, maybe, or tansy, but most definitely dandelions - how they stick to her clothes, her skin, her hair; how, if given the chance, she'll scrub those foul seeds off in a heartbeat, carve out her capillaries from her cavities just to rid herself of the dirt and filth that clogs her throat and blinds her eye, the grime that gets underneath her fingernails, grows beneath her skin, decomposes her flesh until it's nothing but vulture feed. Remnants of a world long lost.

Rei frowns. She steadies her gaze on Asuka's feet, the pale patches of unblemished skin that peek out from ruby shoes caked in a hardly noticeable coat of dust. "There are no birds." The rocks crunch beneath Asuka's heel as she pivots and holds Rei under her scrutiny, like a butterfly in a display, wings pulled in place by pins. She regards her with contempt as solid as steel, and cooly scoffs.

Those are all the words she gives, _all the words she needs to give_ , before facing forward again, marching, step by step, in her solo act. The stage is a desolate desert, the audience Rei Ayanami, someone, _something_ so meaningless and small and so worth _nothing_ , not compared to that girl in the yellow sundress, the main attraction, the wish that tipped the scales in destruction's favor.

Then again, it is child's play to bypass the auditions with flying colors, to become the star of the show, when there are no competitors to block her path to glory.

Rei stares. She studies Asuka's back, past the dandelions that drape over her solemnly-set muscles. Her posture is rigid, defined, until that one telling moment when her shoulders sag, just a bit, and she crumples to the ground. Rei bites her lip. The wind has already smoothed over Asuka's footprints, but the dust that will stain Asuka's freckled skin and dress of dandelions will never come off. Rei hikes up her blue skirt, and runs, adrenaline pumping through her veins a million miles a minute, and for the first time since the end, she finds it difficult to breathe.

When she reaches Asuka, she'd already turned herself over to look at the sky. Her left arm cushions her head. Her right arm is crossed over her breast, her neck, her face, to allow a hand to cover her left eye. Rei pants. Asuka doesn't even so much as acknowledge her - she has no peripheral vision, she's focused on the smog-ridden sky to such a degree that nothing else matters, nothing else _could_ matter.

Asuka burns a hole through Rei's subconscious. She has the resolution of a battleship, of an unwavering, impossible juggernaut ready to dispense her judgement on what's left of the world, but it's when her eyes reflect a dead, dreary dissonance, when they're glossed over like little glass marbles that Rei knows she craves absolution, and in her mind that high-pitched blip turns into a cry for war. Nothing else is scarier than wanting to turn tail, wanting to escape Asuka's soon-to-come domineering fury, but being unable to - because, _like all living things_ , Rei is drawn to the sun.

"Get out of my way, Rei."

Rei blinks, surprised. _It must be the dust_ , she surmises - it swirls around them, a typhoon of sand and sea salt and unstoppable fervor - and she glances down at Asuka, who seems, for the most part, unaffected. Her face is blank. The forecast is cloudy. It will not change, and that is okay, because in the next few seconds, Asuka will change for it.

But she doesn't. The dust piles up on her dress, and Rei considers wishing for water - water to wring out the imperfections, to bring color back to a pale face, an essential, a luxury, a dream.

Instead, Rei bends over, almost losing her balance and slipping, and reaches her hand out to support herself. The ground is gritty, the rocks press into her palm, and will surely leave marks. She lets go, and awkwardly sits, cross-legged, lying down next to Asuka. Her companion makes no movement, so rather than searching for one, she examines the sky. It is empty, and someday, perhaps she'll see what Asuka sees, all the endless possibilities that haven't yet been drained by the sinners and the weak, and never will.

It is the calm before a storm. Rei closes her eyes. _Red doesn't suit the world_ , she realizes, _as much as it fits Asuka._

**Author's Note:**

> I am very much a fan of Asuka's yellow dress.  
> (To be continued? Probably not.)


End file.
